


Hell's Protege

by ddacat



Series: Worlds in Peril [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Kinda, OC, Original Character - Freeform, Pie, Spoilers, daughter - Freeform, daughterfic, not really but still, sisfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 18:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1697450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddacat/pseuds/ddacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. A girl engineered by demons. Another wannabe vying for Crowley's throne. Another adventure for Sam and Dean- but will this one end in the blood of an innocent girl or peace in Hell? Prepare for plot twists around every corner! Rated T for language and graphic violence. Cover image credit to DeviantArt user ontheedgexd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blue Ornament

**Author's Note:**

> Starts at the end of Season 9, except Dean is not a demon. Some of the characters at the beginning (Ellen, Bobby) will be edited out once I am done for consistency. There is no romance in here (well, not actual romance.) There will be some implied, subtle Destiel. Enjoy!

“Hit me up with some of that apple pie,” Dean Winchester smiled at the waitress. The brunette blushed and jotted that down. His brother, Sam, shook his head in amusement. It wasn’t unlike Dean to flirt with every pretty woman he came across. When the waitress left, Dean gave Sam a defensive look. “What?”

Sam chuckled. “So, what about that case?”

“The case?” Then Dean remembered the reason why the two of them were sitting in a diner in Frank Rock, North Dakota. “Right. The mind control monster.”

“Yeah. I’ve got a few leads…” Sam flipped open his laptop and sorted through several files before coming to the right one. “Here.” He turned the computer around to show Dean. “This is the article that most details the last attack.”

Dean squinted at the small type. “‘Neighbor Claims Controlled Man Murdered Family, Killed by Controller’?” He glanced up at Sam doubtfully. “Sounds like the guy was ordered to kill his family. I’d say gang business.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “What could someone possibly have against him to make a guy murder his own family? Read on.”

Dean’s green eyes scanned the report. “‘Acted like a changed man… no hesitation… didn’t even flinch… obeyed controller like a dog.’ Demon, then? And the ‘controller’ could be the demon’s boss.”

“While you were at the bar, I was investigating the crime scene. No sulfur. I talked to the neighbor and he didn’t see any black eyes at all.”

Dean shrugged. “Okay, well, then it’s a special case. I say demon.”

“Well, if it is, and I’m not saying it isn’t, we still have to deal with the fact that the guy who killed his family was just a guy. When he was killed, he was just plain shot. No special blade or Colt involved. The guy just fell down dead, Dean. No special effects or anything.”

“So the demon did something to him,” Dean concluded.

Suddenly, a loud crash came from outside the diner and Sam and Dean jolted up to look. The sound was followed by panicked screaming and gunfire. Sam didn’t hesitate to rush outside to see what the matter was. Dean stared longingly at the pie, which had just emerged with the waitress from the kitchen, for a moment before tearing his gaze away and racing after Sam. Every time he ordered pie, he never seemed to get it.

Outside the diner, a shooter pointed  gun at his own head. He looked about thirty and strangely calm. Across the parking lot, a woman about the same age sobbed. "Don't do this, Hal!" She blubbered. "Don't do this. I love you!"

Hal remained unaffected. 'Snap out of it, Hal!" Dean yelled.

"He's not possessed," Sam muttered. Then, with a bang, Hal pulled the trigger and collapsed on the ground. A pool of blood began to gather around his wound. The woman tore out to his body and lifted his head off the ground, wailing. Sam looked around and watched as more people crowded around him and several other dead bodies in the vicinity. He moved to toward them to help. "Someone call 911!" He ordered.

Meanwhile, Dean noticed a man slip away. He looked pleased with himself and furtive. Dean quickly started to tail him. The man, dressed in holey plaid and an unruly red beard, slipped through town like he'd done this many times before. He made his way through city alleys and out into the nearby woods. Dean kept his distance, making sure not to let on his presence.

The man trekked for several minutes into the forest until it cleared away to reveal a weedy, dried out lot. Dean hid behind a tree trunk. It wasn't safe to follow further. He could have easily been caught in the wide open. Peeking out from behind a branch, Dean saw the man disappear into a shabby house in the center of the small lot. He mentally noted the location of the house and turned away to return to the crime scene.

***

Once the brothers returned to their motel room, Sam pulled up a document on his laptop screen. "Here's the blueprints to the house you found."

"Why do we need blueprints?" Dean scoffed. "How about plain and simple breaking and entering?"

"Well, you should thank me. This makes the job easier. Do you know how deep I had to look to find these?"

Dean shook his head, uninterested. "Whatever. What do we need to gank this mother?"

"Since we don't know exactly what he is, I'd say, to be on the safe side, the demon blade, iron, salt and gasoline, and a gun."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Just because you like to play it safe. Wuss."

Sam chuckled. He rummaged through the trunk of Dean's 1967 Chevrolet Impala, checking to see if everything was in order. "Let's go," he told Dean as he closed the trunk with a final click.

***

Dean crouched behind the corner of a creepy shack, the wooden paneling pressed up against his leather jacket and wispy weeds tickling his ear. He held his gun in both hands, listening intently for any movement. The silence signaling "all clear," Dean whipped around the corner, not letting his guard down in the slightest. With an extra glance in every direction, he pushed lightly at the rotting door, wincing when it creaked open. Without a second thought, he burst through the doorway and held his pistol an arm's length away from him. The room, seemingly unused for decades, was small and layered with cobwebs and dust. There wasn't anything demonic in here, so Dean continued through the only door. It led to another dusty room with only one door leading out. Stepping lightly on the floorboards,  Dean made sure not to let a single creak escape the moldy wooden planks. Once he got to the next door, he continued his routine. Listen closely, ready the gun, and kick open the door. The moment he did, he nearly lost the grip on his pistol and landed with a loud thump on the hardwood.

Looking up with wild eyes, Dean shoved the grinning thing off his chest and braced himself for a fight. He stood, staring eye to eye with the same man, though this time with demonic black eyes. His middle aged face was shrouded with a giant curly beard, red with streaks of gray. A baseball cap barely contained the mess at the top of his head. The demon grinned, wiping his grimy hands on his flannel shirt and rough jeans.

***

Sam, meanwhile, found himself in a dusty parlor room. Various belongings and pictures were strewn around, untouched for decades and the only evidence of a previous life in this decrepit shack. Intrigued by the yellowed photographs and boarded up windows, he began to inspect the myriad of objects. He peered at the pictures that showed a happy family of six, when the lot was a lush meadow and a creek still trickled steadily nearby. An orb to the side of a vanity mirror caught his eye next. Without thinking, Sam picked up the dusty, grimy, blue sphere and blew on it. The dust floated off, revealing an intricate silver design.

He pulled down his sleeve and rubbed the front of the ornament. A smooth, mirror-esque surface seemed to gather all the scant light available in the dark house and then shine it all into Sam's eyes. Then, all the light was gone. Blinded for a moment, Sam shut his eyes to readjust. When he blinked them open again, he turned the ornament around to read the inscription on the back.

“Quod non videant oculi tui,” it read in a looping, archaic script. Sam quickly translated it. See what your eyes cannot. He blinked in confusion.

Dean’s booming voice in the next room reminded him of his mission. He immediately dropped the ornament back on the dresser and hastened to find the source of his brother’s voice. With the sound now faded, he racked his mind, trying to figure out exactly when Dean could be. Next time, no matter what Dean said, he was going to bring blueprints.

***

"So, I finally meet the famous Dean Winchester. You know, I once faced your dad. Put up quite a fight, I have to say. Nearly lost an arm, but he was no match for me. Too bad he got away." The demon was having fun, watching as Dean's expression hardened. "Oh, well. At least I get to finish the job with you and your pesky brother." He cocked his scruffy head, his blackened eyes glittering. "Where is he, anyway? With his little girlfriend, Jessica? Oh, wait." The demon smirked. "I forgot. She died. My apologies."

Dean barely gave the demon enough time to finish his last silky remark before he angrily aimed Colt gun at his heart and let a loud gunshot ring out through the woods. Upon hearing that, Sam rushed up the basement stairs and stood gaping at the dead man lying on the floor. Dean glared at the corpse, breathing heavily and watching what was left of the demon and his meatsuit trembled with orange electricity before he stopped and lay still.

After recovering from the initial shock, Sam yelled, "Are you out of your mind?! We could've saved the guy! I thought we agreed on not killing unless lives are in danger!"

Dean glanced up at Sam, resentment clearly written in his eyes. "Sorry." But Dean wasn't sorry at all.

***

Dean gripped the steering wheel of his prized Impala so tightly his knuckles went white. He stared out at the endless country road ahead of him and flicked the radio on. Loud rock music flooded the car, only to be silenced by Sam a few seconds later. It was a childish game- on, off, on, off- and neither of them spoke a word. Finally, Dean gave up and exclaimed, "Why are you so mad at me, Sam?" He slammed his hand on the wheel, a loud honk emanating from the impact.

"Oh, I'm not mad at you," Sam replied fakely, his tone too cheery for his stony, forward expression.

"Stop lying, Sam," he warned.

Sam jumped slightly but kept his cool. "I'm not lying."

"Does it have to do with our last hunt?" Again, Dean's tone was upset and very, very fed up. Suddenly, Sam doubled over, his fingertips quickly reaching up to his temples. "Sam!"

Sam was in a house. A modern, single family home, with all the lights turned on and the curtains closed, indicating night time. A girl, possibly in her early teens, was sitting at a small table against a wallpapered wall, doing her homework and a denim backpack spilled out at her feet. Suddenly, a woman stumbled into the kitchen. Her eyes were black as the night, but the girl didn't seem to notice as she looked up with concern and said, "Mom? Are- are you alright?"

Her mother laughed and bent over, coughing. When she stood up again, her eyes flashed. The girl noticed and, scared, fumbled with her pencil, accidentally dropping it on the floor.

"Mom?" The woman asked evilly. "No, I'm not your mother. I'm afraid she’s long gone by now." The girl, whoever she was, began to realize, horribly, that her mother was possessed- or at least terribly unwell. Her expression showed that clearly, like she was an open book.  "And you, Caterina Winchester, are going to pay."

The demonic lady stalked over, high heels clicking on the linoleum floor. She threw her arm out and sent Caterina flying. The girl landed pinned on the kitchen wall next to the table and slowly inched upwards.

"No!" She screamed frantically, eyes wide in near hysteria and tears threatening to spill over. "No! Mom! I didn't do anything bad, I swear! Mom! No! No, please..."

Caterina was pressed onto the ceiling now. A bloody cut began to slash its way across her stomach and the girl was frozen, unable to move or scream for help. Blood dripped from her wound and a few seconds later, Caterina exploded into flames, taking the whole house with her.

Sam blinked and found himself back in Dean's Impala with a worried brother and a splitting headache.

"What was it, Sam, another one of your death-visions?" It was more of a demand than a question.

"No, can’t be," he disagreed. “I haven’t had those for years.” Then the memory of the ornament and its inscription flashed in his mind’s eye. “It’s a curse. Or at least a spell. Some kind of magic,” he rambled.

Dean squinted at him in doubt. “What?”

“There was this ornament, at the demon’s house. It reflected all the light in the house in my eyes.” Sam told the whole story of what happened, not leaving out a detail. He'd forgotten that he'd been angry at Dean and was now only agitated.  Then he skipped to the tale of the girl in the house. "And- and the girl's name was Winchester. Caterina Winchester. I wonder if that's a coincidence. "


	2. Winchesters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers attempt research.

"Okay. This vision. Do you have any idea where it could've taken place?" Dean asked once again. He sunk down into the torn red leather seat of the table for two in Sally’s Authentic Diner. Sam shook his head miserably. It had been like this for hours. Sam hadn't noticed any street signs or newspapers; no evidence at all was present to maybe save the girl.

Sam sighed. "What I still don't get is why the murder happened... like- like that." Like Jessica. Like Mom. "Only Azazel kills like that and he's dead. This demon had black eyes. You know, same old stuff."

"Well, you're Mr. Research, you figure it out."

"That's the problem, Dean! I've got nothing! I even called Cas and he has no idea what demon this could be. We don't even know how powerful this thing is, or what it wants. I'm at a complete loss and this girl, Caterina Winchester or whatever, is going to die. Tonight!"

Dean rolled his eyes. There was Sammy again, worried for someone's life he had no way to save. "Come on, dude! Look. We have no idea where she is. She could be states away for all we know. No matter how fast my car is, we're not going to get there on time. I mean, look, it's one p.m. By the time we get anywhere, she'll be done for. There's no way, Sam."

Sam still didn’t look convinced. “Suppose you’re right. Suppose she dies. Then what? Another Winchester goes to hell, and another powerful demon is out there. For all we know, it could be an Azazel reincarnate or maybe one of his cohorts. I wouldn’t have gotten this vision for no reason, Dean!”

“Alright, so what? We’re just going to rush out somewhere to save a girl who we don’t even know is alive? Not happening! And what if it’s a trap? There has to be a reason for that blue crystal ball thing or whatever.”

“Ornament,” Sam corrected.

“Are you ready to order?” A waitress clad in a skimpy calico uniform appeared out of nowhere. She cocked her head at the brothers, sending her blonde curls bouncing.

Dean immediately turned away from his pressing conversation with Sam and smiled flirtatiously at her. Sam rolled his eyes as far back as they could go and turned his head slowly to look at her, irritation at Dean flaring up in his expression.

“Yeah, I’ll take today’s special and a beer.” Sam replied and glanced at Dean.

“Double decker bacon cheeseburger with a side of chili cheese fries. Double the beer.” Dean winked at the waitress and waited until she got out of earshot to stop staring at her swaying hips and look back at his frustrated brother.

“Dean, you’re not getting it. Like Bobby said, there is no such thing as a coincidence. If this girl’s last name is really Winchester, something is up and we need to find out what that is. We can’t really do that if she’s dead.”

Dean shrugged. “Why don’t you do what you normally do? Look through the search indexes or whatever.”

Sam, although still not satisfied, nodded. “Fine. I’ll look through the records to see if there are any branches off the Winchester family tree we don’t know about.”

Sam pulled out his laptop from his bag and set it on the table. Half an hour later, he still hadn’t found anything. “Dean.” Dean looked up from his meal, a burger half-stuffed into his mouth. “Apparently, all directly related Winchesters are dead,” he reported sardonically. “Including the deceased and the far reaches of the family tree, there has never been one Caterina.”

Dean swallowed the burger with a swig of beer. “So? Maybe she’s not related.”

Sam frowned. “Coincidence, Dean. They don’t just happen... coincidentally!

“So what’re we supposed to do now, Sammy?” asked Dean sarcastically. “Just ignore this demon until it kills more people? Come on, you’ve gotta remember some more details!”

“I already told you; I can’t! I’ve searched my memory for anything that could track her, and nothing. All I know is they live in a normal house with a normal family and the girl’s name is Caterina Winchester. She looks young, like somewhere between twelve and fifteen. She has  light brown/dark blonde hair, green eyes, is about 5’3”, and otherwise looks completely normal!”

“Well, then let’s start looking for girls with that same description,” Dean answered logically. Then he flagged down the waitress. “Another beer, please.”

“I think I got something!” Sam exclaimed in relief after a few minutes of clicking around.. “Whisken, Massachusetts. Four house fires in the same neighborhood within two weeks. In each one, everyone in the house died. The houses burst into flame so fast that nobody could escape.”

“Are you sure it’s the place?” Dean asked dubiously.

“Well, it’s the only lead so far. Like I said earlier, there are no Caterina Winchesters that fit her description. It’s like she doesn’t exist. If I search for her description, there are a million identical girls. Trying to find her would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. When I put in a limitation of towns with strange events, Whisken was number one.”

Dean grinned. “Then let’s go to Massachusetts.”

***

“Room for two please,” Dean said, thrusting forward his fake credit card. “Two beds.”

“Alright, follow me.” The motel receptionist stood up and made her way to Room 236 on the second floor. “Here’s your room, two keys, and call us if you need anything.” With that she turned and left leaving Sam and Dean with two duffels and an open motel room.

“Wow. Someone’s having a crappy day,” Dean remarked and dropped his stuff at the foot of his bed.

Sam ignored him and pulled out his laptop, searching the walls for an outlet. When he found one, he sat down at the room’s only desk and fired up his computer. “Since we don’t know who this Caterina girl is, we’ll have to find her. There’s only one public high school here, Whisken Oaks High School. I don’t know her exact age, so we’ll have to check the middle school too. I just need to get the exact address…”

“Yo, wait up! Shouldn’t we check out the house fires first? See what they have in common? If you’re right, one of those fires could be her.”

Sam considered it. “Okay. We’ll check the houses, but if we get nothing, we’re checking out the schools.”

***

Ding-dong! The cliche doorbell rang through the house. Five seconds and nobody answered. Dean frowned and put his finger on the button, ready to ring it again. Just then, a thirty-something woman with bright red hair answered the door.

“Hello? Can I help you?”

“Yeah, uh… we’re here to investigate the house fire next door that occurred last week.” Sam pulled out a wallet and flipped it open, exposing his almost genuine FBI card and golden badge. Dean did the same. “I’m Agent Angus and this is my partner, Agent Young.”

“Oh, well…” the woman looked nervous and somewhat scared. Her hands shook as she motioned them in. “Come in, then. I’m Michelle Baxter, by the way.”

In the living room, “Agent Angus” and “Agent Young” took a seat on the worn leather couch. “So, your neighbors,” Sam asked gently, “Tell me about them.”

“Well, what do you want to know?” the woman asked.

“Their names and occupations for starters,” Dean suggested.

“They were a family of four. Average American family, you know? The parents were John and Anna Lewis. Mr. Lewis worked at the electric company and Mrs. Lewis was a teacher at the elementary school. The kids were just angelic.” As Ms. Baxter said that, Sam and Dean exchanged a glance, trying to hold in a chuckle. Their experience with real angels taught them many things, including that angels are far from angelic. “The oldest was Melissa. She was a student at the community college and had a babysitting business going on. The younger one was Phil. He was twelve and played in the little league.” Ms. Baxter’s voice started to get shaky and emotional. “They were such a nice family; it was so sad they had to go like that. I imagine it was horrible. At least it was quick.”

Sam cocked his head. “It was quick?”

Ms. Baxter nodded vigorously. “Oh, yes. It was quiet, and then suddenly the whole house exploded with flames. I expect they all… passed right then.”

Sam nodded and jotted a few things down in his notepad. “Do you mind telling us… was there anything weird… or strange that the Lewises were involved in or happened to them?”

Ms. Baxter replied hesitantly, “No, I can’t recall anything unusual. Why?”

“Just covering all the bases,” Dean explained, pulling their usual excuse. “Any flickering lights or rotten egg smells?”

“No. Can I see your badges again?” she asked suspiciously. The boys rolled their eyes inwardly and pulled them out for her to inspect. “Alright. But there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Everything was normal, then there was a sudden boom and the next thing I knew I could smell smoke. Is there something going on that I don’t know about?”

“No, no,” Sam reassured her. “One last question. Do you happen to know a Caterina Winchester?”

Ms. Baxter looked at them strangely. “No, I don’t know of any Winchesters around here.”

The brothers got up and smiled at her politely. “Okay, that’s it. You keep safe, alright?” Sam asked and turned to leave.

Back in the Impala, Dean asked yet again, “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“No,” Sam admitted sadly. “There’s nothing in Dad’s journal about here or her either.”

“Okay then, what about the fires? There doesn’t seem to be anything supernatural here, just faulty gas lines.”

“We’ll have to find a connection. We’ll just get the files for all the people that died in the fires and compare them.”

“Okay,” Dean responded doubtfully. “Whatever you say.”

***

Dean rolled onto his back and brought the beer bottle to his lips. He was sunken into the low quality bed, watching the reruns of Dr. Sexy, M.D. on the TV. Sam glared at him and returned to sift through the pile of folders on the desk. So far, he’d found a few connections between the fires, but nothing of substance.

All four houses had families with kids. Three of the houses had girls the same age. Genevieve Jordan, fourteen, attended Whisken Oaks High. Cara Ann Michaels and Sarah Jones, the same age as Genevieve, also attended Whisken Oaks. The fourth family, the Lewises, didn’t have a daughter their age but did have a 19 year old daughter, Melissa, who ran that babysitting business. An idea came into Sam’s head. Did Melissa babysit the kids of the other families? He checked the files again to no avail. The Jordans, Michaels, and Joneses never had any babysitters or nannies. Yet another bust.

He decided to go on a tangent and find the names of the kids Melissa did babysit. He shuffled through the papers in Melissa’s file and finally came to a sheet with all the details from her business. It listed six names, one of which caught Sam’s eye. Caterina. There was no last name for any of the kids, but there was an address and age. Caterina was fourteen, like the other three girls. Then it hit him. There was a large chance that Caterina was friends with the other girls, meaning there was a connection between the four houses. Her.

“Dean! I got it!” Sam almost yelled. He was quite proud of himself for figuring it out, but he kept his tone solemn to match the occasion.

“What is it?”

“The connection. Between the houses. They all had relations to a girl named Caterina.”

“Does that mean?” Dean left the question open-ended.

“Yeah.”


	3. The FBI Are Demon Experts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Angus and Agent Young save the day.

“Does that mean?”

“Yeah. Someone is trying to kill off everyone she knows. It’s most likely a demon. Since there isn’t any news of her house burning down, we can assume she’s still alive.” Sam shrugged, making his “you never know” face. “Unless her real name isn’t Caterina. Maybe there’s some other Caterina who’s not her. We know the Winchester part was wrong, so maybe the Caterina part is too.”

“Great, so now what? We go busting into the house of every Caterina in the city? Probably not a smart idea,” Dean replied cynically.

“No. Hand me my laptop.”

Dean rolled his eyes and tossed it over to Sam. “Sure, choose the boring way.”

“Hold on.” Sam began to type madly. A couple clicks later, he beckoned Dean over. “52340 Silverstone Court. One neighborhood over from the fires.”

The brothers exchanged a look and Dean said, shrugging, “Let’s go.”

***

Knock, knock. Sam and Dean stood curiously on a whitewashed porch in front of a normal-looking house. The door in front of them was the same chipped white as the porch and walls around them. A small stained-glass semicircle was at the top of the door, a pattern depicting a cherubic angel with a harp.

The door opened and a brown-haired girl stood there defensively, uncertain whether or not to let in the two strange men on her porch. “Who are you?”

“We’d like to ask you the same question,” Sam replied, not skipping a beat. She was, without a doubt, the girl in his vision. He locked eyes with Dean and gave a slight nod. “Are you Caterina Winchester?”

“Um, no. Stevenson.” She answered cautiously, still not budging or letting them a view of her house.

“Huh?” Sam asked, confused.

“My name’s Caterina Stevenson, not Winchester. Why’d you ask?”

“We’re, ah, investigating the house fires and the deaths involving them. I understand you had relations to some of the victims?” Sam and Dean pulled out their badges and watched as the girl became even more ill at ease.

“You’re FBI…” she whispered.

“That’s right, kid. Are your parents home?” Dean asked. He made sure he kept his voice calm and kind. He had a knack with kids and knew they were easy to scare.

“My mom’s at work,” she answered shortly. She stepped out the door, clicked it shut, and sat down in a plastic chair teetering at the edge of the wooden porch. She gestured to the rough couch in front of her, the afternoon sunlight illuminating her hair so that it glowed a soft yellow. “You guys can sit if you want.”

Sam and Dean hesitantly took a seat, one on each wide cushion of the dirt-flecked couch. “Did you know the families that passed from the fire?”

Caterina flinched at the mention of death. “Yeah. I knew all of them. Genevieve, Cara, and Sarah were my friends. I can’t believe I lost all my best friends within two weeks.” Suddenly, Caterina didn’t seem like the tough girl she was pretending to be. She set her mouth in a flat line and stared straight ahead with her eyes glistening, still clinging onto her facade. “Melissa babysat me for a while when I was younger. We were really close.”

Dean didn’t speak. He could fight demons, shoot someone dead from yards away, work flawlessly with children, and figure out exactly what was going on in his brother’s head, but the one thing he couldn’t do was comfort someone in emotional pain. Sure, he could relate, but he always left the comforting to Sam.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Sam said softly. Caterina nodded, still staring off into the distance. “We only have a few more questions. Tell me, have you noticed anything strange going on?”

“No, not really.”

“Anything before the fires? They happened each two days apart.”

“Nope. By the time it got Genny, Cara, and Melissa, I was scared Sarah would die next. She did, and the only one left is me. Is that strange?” She looked at Sam and Dean for approval. She was scared. It was obvious, but Caterina still thought she could hide it.

“Are you scared you’re going to be next?” asked Sam, knitting his brows with concern.

Caterina shifted her gaze and looked Dean and Sam in the eyes, as though trying to see if they could be trusted. Finally, she admitted, “Yes. Exactly.”

Sam glanced at Dean before speaking. “Don’t be. Everything’s going to be alright, okay?”

Caterina glared at him. “How do you know?”

He tapped his badge. “I just do. Now, show me around your house. We want to make sure there aren’t any gas leaks or anything that might cause a fire.” His tone had gotten back to business and he stood up, towering over Caterina.

She nodded. “Okay.” She walked over to the door and opened it up, entering her house. Sam and Dean followed, looking around the suburban house.

“What do you want to look at?”

Dean smiled. “Show me your kitchen.” As Caterina took the lead, Dean looked back and gave a secret nod to Sam.

Sam returned it and quickly perused the whole front room for anything out of the ordinary. He didn’t find any dust or sulphur, so he continued on through the other rooms, keeping quiet so Caterina wouldn’t know where he was. Through every room in the house, Sam didn’t find a single thing that might indicate demons. What he did find, however, were several family pictures. They depicted Caterina and her mother going sailing, posing in fancy restaurants, and hiking. Every single photo, and it was just the two of them. No father, no grandparents, cousins, aunts, or uncles. It came off to Sam as strange, but he brushed it aside. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, was there? After Sam had found his way through the whole house, he felt somewhat disappointed. He didn’t find anything. That was a first.

He entered the kitchen and his eyes widened. It looked exactly the same as his vision, down to the backpack spilled over in exactly the same way. That could mean only one thing. The demon would be paying a visit tonight. He glanced over at Dean. He was trying to keep up a conversation with Caterina while pretending to tinker with the stove. He could have fooled her, but Sam knew he wasn’t actually checking to see if the gas was leaking.

When Dean saw Sam, he quickly finished and stood up. “I think we’re done here, Caterina. We’ll let you know if we find something out. Why don’t you stay over at a friend’s house tonight just in case?”

She shrugged. “I’ll ask my mom when she gets home.”

“Why don’t you call her?” Dean suggested.

“She’s at work.” When Sam and Dean continued to not say a word, she added, “Fine. I’ll call her.”

She pulled out her cell phone and called her mom up. No answer. She tried again, but her mother still didn’t pick up. Caterina glanced at the “FBI agents” guiltily. “Sorry, she won’t pick up.”

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam suspiciously. “Alright,” Sam said conclusively, “well, we’ll leave now.”

Once they were out of her earshot and in their car, both groaned. Time for a night stakeout.

***

“Demon mom home yet?” mumbled Dean from his slumped position on the car seat.

“No.”

“How about now?”

“No.”

“How-”

“No! Why don’t you actually look through your binoculars? You might not know it, but they’re a cool new invention that let you see things from far away. Stop asking me!”

Dean pushed himself into an upright position. “God, how long does it take to come home from work?” He pulled the binoculars up to his eyes and looked through the bright windows to see if he could spot Caterina. He couldn’t. Sigh. Dean dropped the binoculars so that they hung limply around his neck. “So if she’s Caterina not Winchester, why does the demon call her Caterina Winchester?”

Sam replied carefully, “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to figure it out myself. Back in the house, I saw a ton of family pictures- just her and her mom. Maybe the dad was a Winchester?”

“I don’t know,” Dean complained. “Who was the dad, then? Maybe we can get the demon to talk.”

“We’ll have to wait and see.”

A moment of silence passed. Then, Sam whisper-shouted, “There! A car’s pulling into the driveway.” Dean followed his gaze and noticed that indeed, a deep blue 1968 Chevrolet Nova was entering the neat garage. The classic car didn’t fit with the surrounding museum of abandoned pink-tasseled tricycles and packing boxes overflowing with Sharpied dolls.

“Let’s go,” Dean agreed. They waited until Caterina’s mom was out of sight to rush out their prized ‘67 Impala and grab their salt, holy water, guns, and knives. “‘Round the back?”

“No,” replied Sam, remembering his mental map of the Stevenson household. “There’s a fence. We’ll have to bust through the front. We’ll be easily spotted, but we’ve got no choice.”

“Okay then.” They were now at the front porch, both remembering not to step on the creaky plank. Dean jiggled a lockpick into the keyhole and silently opened the door. As soon as he and Sam were inside, he shut the door and they split up, Sam going closer to the garage door to sneak up behind the demon. Dean went the other way so he could enter the kitchen from the opposite side. Caterina was facing him but was too buried in studying to notice him peeking around the corner.

Dean heard a stumbling sound enter the kitchen. The demon.

“Mom? Are- are you alright?”

A hacking cough was the response. “Mom?” The demon asked, her voice suddenly clear. “No, I’m not your mother. I’m afraid that she’s long gone by now.”

On cue, Dean and Sam rushed out from their hiding places. Sam came from behind the demon, grabbing her and holding a knife at her throat. Caterina screamed for a split second an clamped her hand over her own mouth. She stared wide-eyed at the two men and her black-eyed mother.

“Caterina, get out of this house! Now! Just stay outside, and you’ll be safe!” Dean yelled, his words reminding him of what his father had said in a similar situation.

_“Dean! Take your brother and run! Go!”_

The words were obvious. Caterina couldn’t burn on the ceiling if there was none. Pure logic. But as soon as the scared girl ran, all the doors and windows slammed shut. She looked like she was about to faint.

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere, Caterina Winchester,” the demon hissed. With a flick of her hand, she sent Sam flying away from her and slamming into the cabinet. Sam crashed through the thin wood and hit his head on several ceramic plates, making a sharp pain course through his skull. As he sat there, temporarily knocked out, the demon had enough time to turn back to Caterina.

“Oh, I’ve been waiting for this moment since I heard you existed.” A sudden thought struck the demon. She began to cackle with laughter. “For the first time since John died, I have three Winchesters in the same room! And I’ll be the last demon to ever have this pleasure; I’m going to kill all of you.” The demon grinned and shot her hand out. Caterina was immediately pulled to the wall like a magnet. She wriggled and winced in pain.

“Ow! Please! I didn’t do anything, I swear!” When the demon didn’t ease up, she looked to Dean despairingly. “Help me!”

Dean remembered his job and pulled out his gun, shooting the demon through the heart. He knew the only bullet that could kill a demon was Samuel Colt’s gun, and the one he was holding at that moment didn’t happen to be it. Fortunately, he wasn’t trying to send the demon straight back to Hell at this particular moment. All he needed was to stun her long enough to tie her up and question her. An interrogation was sorely needed.

The demon’s eyes flared. “I’m not leaving this easily, Dean Winchester. You’ll have to try harder than that.”

Unfortunately, her back was to Sam at that moment. He grabbed her, tying her up so she couldn’t move.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, and Dean quickly pulled out a chair and forced the demon into it. Sam finished tying her up and quickly pulled out spray paint to draw a devil’s trap.

It was finished within a minute. The moment Sam and Dean shoved her in it, she couldn’t escape and Caterina went sliding down the wall. She landed on her feet with no problem, but stood shakily, still afraid to leave the wall.

The demon glared at the three of them. “Just kill me.”

Sam and Dean looked shocked. Usually, demons didn’t give up this easily. Come to think of it, even capturing and tying her up was easy. Were they stuck in an even bigger trap?

Dean regained his composure first. He pulled a canteen of holy water out of his pocket and opened the cap. “We’ll kill you when we’re done with you. I think we have a few questions, don’t we, Sam?”

Sam nodded. The demon glared at them defiantly. “I’m not telling you anything.”

Dean laughed sympathetically. He splashed some water at the demon, making her scream in agony. “Talking now?”

“Nope.”

Dean nodded at Sam, who walked over and dumped salt down her throat. The demon coughed and spit miserably. When her mouth started to empty of the terribly stinging salt, Dean doused her face with holy water again. She screamed in pain.

“Why did you call Caterina a Winchester?” Dean demanded.

The demon gave Dean the evil eye. “No.”

Sam pulled out a knife and went to stand behind the demon. He sliced into her arm. A screech tore through the kitchen.

“Fine! Fine! It’s obvious,” the demon scoffed when she finally caught her breath. “She has Winchester blood.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?! She’s got a Winchester dad?” Dean demanded impatiently. Sam pressed the knife into another spot on her arm.

“No. Because-” The demon explained between cringes of pain, “She’s engineered. Genetically. Her mother. Was. Never supposed. To have a child. She… was infertile. Caterina is pure Winchester. She was made by demons.”

Dean was flabbergasted. He suddenly realised that Caterina was still in the room. He turned back to her and saw that her face was as white as a ghost. “Caterina. Go outside. We won’t hurt you. Just wait there and we’ll explain everything and get you somewhere safe.” When she hesitated, he added, “Go!”

Caterina nodded and slunk away.

Dean felt bad about talking about her behind her back. Unfortunately, it was the best option. He focused on the demon again. “What the hell does that mean, you bitch?”

As though unable to stand Dean’s stupidity, the demon rolled her eyes impatiently. “Demons created her. They mashed together Winchester blood. The best hunting and fighting genes rolled up into one human. Then, they planted her in her mother. Caterina is a Winchester. Not practically related to you, but she’s got your blood. Satisfied?” She bit her tongue, trying to keep from screaming out again.

“We’re not done, bitch,” Dean answered, shaking his head menacingly. “Why are you here?”

“Are you seriously that thick?” asked the demon. “I was trying to kill her.”

“Why?”

When the demon didn’t respond, Sam dug further into her flesh with his knife. The demon was fuming. “I was obeying orders.”

“If you guys created her, why do you want to kill her?” Dean demanded. This had to be the most questions he’d ever asked in an interrogation and torture session.

“I don’t know.”

Sam sliced another bloody line across her arm.

“I don’t know!”

Slash.

“Fine! Fine. Stop it!” Sam paused. The demon breathed and continued, “We didn’t invent her. I was ordered by my master. My master wants her dead. My master’s enemies made her. Will you just finish the damn job?!”

Dean glanced at Sam for approval. Sam nodded and said, “When you tell us who your master is.”

“Torture me all you want, but I won’t tell you.” The demon was confident this time.

Several minutes later, the demon was screaming and caked in blood, water, and salt. If the demon was going to crack at all, she already would have.

Dean glared at Sam. “Fine. Read the damn Latin.”

Sam rolled his eyes and pulled out the spell book. The demon protested in absolute terror. “No! I said kill me! Don’t send me to hell! I swear I won’t kill any of you! No!”

Her screams reverberated off the walls for several seconds. 60 words afterwards, black smoke exploded out of the woman’s mouth and flew back to the pits of damnation. Caterina’s dead mother sat limply on the blood-soaked kitchen chair. After inspection, a bullet wound in her chest indicated she had been dead before she’d ever gotten home.

Sam and Dean gave each other a weary glance and set out to find Caterina. She was curled up on the hood of her mother’s car, shivering and asleep. Now there were two issues: finding out who the demon’s master was and figuring out what to do with Caterina.

 

 


End file.
